Yesterday I was set apart as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I do not know if I will be able to update my blog while on the mission, but if I can, I will.
If I can't, just know that I am in China, having crazy adventures, wearing a skirt, and yes, wearing pantyhose.
In the wise words of Yucca Tumbleweed, "May the prophets watch over you". God bless. Have fun, be safe, and please remember to wear sunscreen.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The End of a Legacy
Today a legend has died.
I found out the news through a homeless man. That's right, a hobo. Katie Cullen and I were leaving the Mariners game when we witnessed a man, with a cast, pass over a handful of rocks/pills to another person about 3 feet away from us, and they handed him money. Everyone in the group watched us watch them as we passed. When we were a few feet away Katie said, "Did we just witness" and I stated "A drug deal? Yes." As we were laughing about my future in FBI profiling and what we should have done (meaning I take the handful of goods while stating, "I need this more than you"), Katie told me that the man with the cast was following us. This is when we got stuck at a red light and had to wait to cross the street. The man came up to me mumbling about how he had had surgery about an hour ago (we think he was selling his pain meds), and then stated "Michael Jackson is dead. He was a child molester" and he walked away. Katie Cullen stated, "Yeah, Michael Jackson is dead." But deep inside I knew that there was a possibility that he was dead because anyone who knows crazies, knows that there is method to their madness. When we reached the car we turned on the radio to hear "Thriller was the most memorable song. RIP Michael Jackson."
This was serious, but we had no idea how. I estimated that it was an overdose, Katie Cullen thought it was a complication to surgery. We called Jessie Cordell who was no where near a computer and didn't know about the horrid accident. Then we called Kendyl who filled us in. Meanwhile, Caroline called and talked to me about how her children will never know of the true Michael Jackson. She brought up the idea of his death caused by diuretics, which is completely possible because supposedly he died from heart failure (which is a side effect), I mean, he was very skinny over the past few years.
Caroline was wondering what he is thinking now that he is in spirit prison. I think he is very confused. I mean, he probably has the body he used to have. And no one recognizes him because he is most likely black. Black or white, I still love him.
Honestly were you surprised that he died? No. He was one of those who was going to go out with a bang. Michael, pyt, thank you for the good times, RIP, and see you in a few years.
I found out the news through a homeless man. That's right, a hobo. Katie Cullen and I were leaving the Mariners game when we witnessed a man, with a cast, pass over a handful of rocks/pills to another person about 3 feet away from us, and they handed him money. Everyone in the group watched us watch them as we passed. When we were a few feet away Katie said, "Did we just witness" and I stated "A drug deal? Yes." As we were laughing about my future in FBI profiling and what we should have done (meaning I take the handful of goods while stating, "I need this more than you"), Katie told me that the man with the cast was following us. This is when we got stuck at a red light and had to wait to cross the street. The man came up to me mumbling about how he had had surgery about an hour ago (we think he was selling his pain meds), and then stated "Michael Jackson is dead. He was a child molester" and he walked away. Katie Cullen stated, "Yeah, Michael Jackson is dead." But deep inside I knew that there was a possibility that he was dead because anyone who knows crazies, knows that there is method to their madness. When we reached the car we turned on the radio to hear "Thriller was the most memorable song. RIP Michael Jackson."
This was serious, but we had no idea how. I estimated that it was an overdose, Katie Cullen thought it was a complication to surgery. We called Jessie Cordell who was no where near a computer and didn't know about the horrid accident. Then we called Kendyl who filled us in. Meanwhile, Caroline called and talked to me about how her children will never know of the true Michael Jackson. She brought up the idea of his death caused by diuretics, which is completely possible because supposedly he died from heart failure (which is a side effect), I mean, he was very skinny over the past few years.
Caroline was wondering what he is thinking now that he is in spirit prison. I think he is very confused. I mean, he probably has the body he used to have. And no one recognizes him because he is most likely black. Black or white, I still love him.
Honestly were you surprised that he died? No. He was one of those who was going to go out with a bang. Michael, pyt, thank you for the good times, RIP, and see you in a few years.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
What is Happening to Me?
I have never been one to cry in a movie. In fact, I have never cried in a movie, but I did tear up in Selena when the rose was dropped on the floor as a artist representation of her death and the consequent termination of her dreams.
I really have never been a sympathetic cry-er, you know the person who has to cry when someone else cries.
But now, I cry during every episode of Extreme Home Makeover, whether or not someone is watching it with me. I cry when someone else I know cries. I also start crying at random sad thoughts in my head.
I don't know the reason for this emotionality. I realized it when my mom, my sister Grace, and I were watching Extreme Home Makeover last night, and my mom stated, "I don't even know why I'm crying", while I was trying to brush away a tear without letting anyone know I was crying.
I hope it is only temporal.
I really have never been a sympathetic cry-er, you know the person who has to cry when someone else cries.
But now, I cry during every episode of Extreme Home Makeover, whether or not someone is watching it with me. I cry when someone else I know cries. I also start crying at random sad thoughts in my head.
I don't know the reason for this emotionality. I realized it when my mom, my sister Grace, and I were watching Extreme Home Makeover last night, and my mom stated, "I don't even know why I'm crying", while I was trying to brush away a tear without letting anyone know I was crying.
I hope it is only temporal.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Cut it Out Deux
In the infamous words of one of my heroes, oops, I did it again. Here are some of the pictures of my latest visit to the hairdresser when I stated "My hair looks like a 5 year old's" and "Do whatever you want". The pictures don't look any different from the first time I go it cut, but there are differences. First, it is 2 inches shorter. Second the inversion is more extreme (but still conservative for missionary purposes), and third, I have no idea what I got myself into because my hairdresser stopped what she was doing and asked me twice "You promise you are actually going to do your hair?" I answered "yes" but we both know that after one time of trying to do it, I'll give up.
My hairdresser informed me that I have 3 times the amount of hair as the average person and that besides my widow's peak (which I have known about for years) I have cowlicks on the back of my head that "add interest to my hair line". She also informed me that when my friends and I are done having babies, our hair will thin out dramatically and I will be glad that my hair was so thick. She told me that this time was coming sooner than I thought. What she doesn't know is that I am planning a lifetime with cats and loneliness, so my thick hair will never be a benefit.
My hairdresser informed me that I have 3 times the amount of hair as the average person and that besides my widow's peak (which I have known about for years) I have cowlicks on the back of my head that "add interest to my hair line". She also informed me that when my friends and I are done having babies, our hair will thin out dramatically and I will be glad that my hair was so thick. She told me that this time was coming sooner than I thought. What she doesn't know is that I am planning a lifetime with cats and loneliness, so my thick hair will never be a benefit.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Bumps in My Lovely Lady Lumps
So last Wednesday I found a lump in one of my breast, and told myself "It's nothing." But like any hypochondriac would do, I started thinking the worst. I mean, what if I had breast cancer.
So I did what any girl would do and told/showed my mom. I had basically convinced myself that it was nothing, but just wanted my mom to reassure me. She told me she didn't think it was anything, but when she saw it, pure fear crossed her face, and she kept repeating "I'm sure it's nothing". We decided to wait a few days and see what happened. After a few days the lump became visible, when I told my mom, she said "You're too young" and I said "Yeah, but I know people who have had breast cancer when they were 20", and she said "Me too." After a few minutes of silence, my mom said "I can't believe we are even thinking about not going to the doctor". The two of us being the lazy people we are, decided to push off the doctor's visit for a few more days.
On Friday, I decided to set an appointment, but then I canceled because I told myself it's nothing. But after telling my friend Kendyl about it, she basically put me in my place for not getting it looked at, I decided to just go. I had to keep telling myself "Prevention is the best treatment", and the fact I have almost every kind of disease/cancer in my genes, it was a good idea to get checked anyway.
So all weekend I have had these fears that I have cancer, because with my luck I should. I completely talked myself into believing that I had breast cancer. I envisioned my dad having to take me to and from my chemo appointments, and the further deterioration of my body. These thoughts brought me to tears, but then I remembered I finally had a legit reason to shave my head, and everything seemed better.
So I went to the doctor's today, and of course she thought I was crazy. She told me that she didn't believe that it was cancer, but rather a bruise from some form of exercise, even though I told her that I haven't been exercising, at all. Literally, all I do is laundry, and that's not exercise. She is having me continue to monitor, and if it doesn't go away in 3 weeks, then we will have to do imaging. Good thing I am leaving in 3 weeks.
Another great moment that happened was I asked her when I could stop taking my iron supplement. She stated, "We told you, in 6 weeks we will retest your blood to see if the iron is working and being processed", and "Sometimes you have to take the supplements for 3 to 6 months". No Dr. Fluke, you did not tell me that I needed to retest my blood, nor did you the last time something like this happened. All the nurse said was to take 3200mg of iron (actually she kept stumbling over the actual number), which had I listened to her counsel I would have been taking 118.5 times the normal daily value of iron. This is why I am glad I have nurse friends at the State Hospital who I can call for medical advice that won't kill me.
So I did what any girl would do and told/showed my mom. I had basically convinced myself that it was nothing, but just wanted my mom to reassure me. She told me she didn't think it was anything, but when she saw it, pure fear crossed her face, and she kept repeating "I'm sure it's nothing". We decided to wait a few days and see what happened. After a few days the lump became visible, when I told my mom, she said "You're too young" and I said "Yeah, but I know people who have had breast cancer when they were 20", and she said "Me too." After a few minutes of silence, my mom said "I can't believe we are even thinking about not going to the doctor". The two of us being the lazy people we are, decided to push off the doctor's visit for a few more days.
On Friday, I decided to set an appointment, but then I canceled because I told myself it's nothing. But after telling my friend Kendyl about it, she basically put me in my place for not getting it looked at, I decided to just go. I had to keep telling myself "Prevention is the best treatment", and the fact I have almost every kind of disease/cancer in my genes, it was a good idea to get checked anyway.
So all weekend I have had these fears that I have cancer, because with my luck I should. I completely talked myself into believing that I had breast cancer. I envisioned my dad having to take me to and from my chemo appointments, and the further deterioration of my body. These thoughts brought me to tears, but then I remembered I finally had a legit reason to shave my head, and everything seemed better.
So I went to the doctor's today, and of course she thought I was crazy. She told me that she didn't believe that it was cancer, but rather a bruise from some form of exercise, even though I told her that I haven't been exercising, at all. Literally, all I do is laundry, and that's not exercise. She is having me continue to monitor, and if it doesn't go away in 3 weeks, then we will have to do imaging. Good thing I am leaving in 3 weeks.
Another great moment that happened was I asked her when I could stop taking my iron supplement. She stated, "We told you, in 6 weeks we will retest your blood to see if the iron is working and being processed", and "Sometimes you have to take the supplements for 3 to 6 months". No Dr. Fluke, you did not tell me that I needed to retest my blood, nor did you the last time something like this happened. All the nurse said was to take 3200mg of iron (actually she kept stumbling over the actual number), which had I listened to her counsel I would have been taking 118.5 times the normal daily value of iron. This is why I am glad I have nurse friends at the State Hospital who I can call for medical advice that won't kill me.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
My Life as of Now
So I know you all are dying for an update on my life.
Let me give you a run down. For starters, I'm in Washington living at home and going crazy. I don't have a room, I literally sleep on a mattress that is in the basement, in front of the TV. Seriously. I woke up one morning to my little brother playing x-box right next to me, and I about freaked. Who honestly goes into someone's room while they are sleeping, especially before 9:00 am on a Saturday?! And my clothes are in bins in the corner of the basement and the front room. It's basically like living out of a suitcase for two and a half months, which is something I never like to do.
A typical day for me starts at 7:45 am, when I hit the snooze about three times and wake up about 8:30. Then depending on what chores I want to accomplish for the day, I start working. Usually I do the laundry for my family, and clean the kitchen. On days where I have extra energy, I make whole wheat bread (stop laughing I'm serious). I decided that possibly, maybe, if there is a God out there, that I might be married one day (maybe not in this life, but a girl can dream), and that I needed to be more domestic, because I doubt any suitable husband would be impressed by my Roman making skills, or my ability to drive through the drive-thru at McDonald's.
I finish my duties about 1:00 pm, when I have an orange and some ice cream. My mom has me hooked on chocolate dipped cones from McDonald's (only 3 points on Weight Watchers), and we basically get one at least once a day. I retire to bed about 11:00. Actually the time I retire is completely dependent on whether someone is watching TV or not, another perk of not having a room.
I have also been working for a family in my ward for about 3 hours twice a week. Yes, I know I didn't want to work, but I can't say no, and I'm think I will probably need the money at some point.
I am currently in a battle with my insurance company because they don't want to give me my birth control in advance for my mission (and I can't trust my parents to remember to send it to me). They just don't understand that my uterus does not work unless it is artificially managed.
I am also preparing for my mission. I've got everything pretty much done, I just need pantyhose, which I am holding out as long as possible because I hate them with a passion. Seriously, when I was asked if there was anything holding me back from going on a mission I told my bishop and stake presidency member "I don't want to wear pantyhose." They thought it was hilarious, but I was completely serious.
Other than that, Tuesday night is temple night with my mom, and Wednesday night is when I watch the "Dog the Bounty Hunter" marathon on A&E.
Ice cream and Dog, what could be better?!
Let me give you a run down. For starters, I'm in Washington living at home and going crazy. I don't have a room, I literally sleep on a mattress that is in the basement, in front of the TV. Seriously. I woke up one morning to my little brother playing x-box right next to me, and I about freaked. Who honestly goes into someone's room while they are sleeping, especially before 9:00 am on a Saturday?! And my clothes are in bins in the corner of the basement and the front room. It's basically like living out of a suitcase for two and a half months, which is something I never like to do.
A typical day for me starts at 7:45 am, when I hit the snooze about three times and wake up about 8:30. Then depending on what chores I want to accomplish for the day, I start working. Usually I do the laundry for my family, and clean the kitchen. On days where I have extra energy, I make whole wheat bread (stop laughing I'm serious). I decided that possibly, maybe, if there is a God out there, that I might be married one day (maybe not in this life, but a girl can dream), and that I needed to be more domestic, because I doubt any suitable husband would be impressed by my Roman making skills, or my ability to drive through the drive-thru at McDonald's.
I finish my duties about 1:00 pm, when I have an orange and some ice cream. My mom has me hooked on chocolate dipped cones from McDonald's (only 3 points on Weight Watchers), and we basically get one at least once a day. I retire to bed about 11:00. Actually the time I retire is completely dependent on whether someone is watching TV or not, another perk of not having a room.
I have also been working for a family in my ward for about 3 hours twice a week. Yes, I know I didn't want to work, but I can't say no, and I'm think I will probably need the money at some point.
I am currently in a battle with my insurance company because they don't want to give me my birth control in advance for my mission (and I can't trust my parents to remember to send it to me). They just don't understand that my uterus does not work unless it is artificially managed.
I am also preparing for my mission. I've got everything pretty much done, I just need pantyhose, which I am holding out as long as possible because I hate them with a passion. Seriously, when I was asked if there was anything holding me back from going on a mission I told my bishop and stake presidency member "I don't want to wear pantyhose." They thought it was hilarious, but I was completely serious.
Other than that, Tuesday night is temple night with my mom, and Wednesday night is when I watch the "Dog the Bounty Hunter" marathon on A&E.
Ice cream and Dog, what could be better?!
Friday, May 29, 2009
You Lay in a Bed of Lies
My parents are a bunch of liars.
My whole life my parents have told me that when my mom turned thirty, she became allergic to every kind of animal. And I believed them. You may be thinking, Whitney why would you believe this? Because when my mom turned thirty she became allergic to raw potatoes and apples too. So my parents told me I couldn't have any pets because "You have siblings" and also because "Your mom is allergic". I asked about every single animal there was including parrots, chinchillas, and rats. But the answer was always the same, "No your mom's allergic."
Being the antagonist I am, my dad promised me that we could have an outside dog when the youngest sibling was out of diapers, and we lived in a house with a fenced in yard. I think he promised me this because either Grace would never get out of diapers, or most likely we would never live in and own a house with a fenced in yard.
Well, Grace has been out of diapers for about 12 years, and we've had a fenced in yard for 8. This isn't the part that bothers me. It's the fact that my brother got a puppy this past weekend and my mom was hogging the dog. I reminded her that she was allergic to dogs (she always forgets that she is allergic to apples and wonders why her throat itches after she eats one), because she was hogging the dog and wouldn't let anyone else play with it. She then stated, "No, I'm only allergic to cats."
My whole childhood was a lie. I mean the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and now this?!
I know, my parents are horrible people. And, because of their poor parenting and laziness I am not an Olympic athlete. Had they just pushed me, I could have been Dominique Dawes or Dominique Moceanu (I lived in Romania, I probably could have tumbled like a Romanian). I remind my mom of this every time the Olympics are on.
Here are pictures of the what started it all:
The dog's name is Harry.
My whole life my parents have told me that when my mom turned thirty, she became allergic to every kind of animal. And I believed them. You may be thinking, Whitney why would you believe this? Because when my mom turned thirty she became allergic to raw potatoes and apples too. So my parents told me I couldn't have any pets because "You have siblings" and also because "Your mom is allergic". I asked about every single animal there was including parrots, chinchillas, and rats. But the answer was always the same, "No your mom's allergic."
Being the antagonist I am, my dad promised me that we could have an outside dog when the youngest sibling was out of diapers, and we lived in a house with a fenced in yard. I think he promised me this because either Grace would never get out of diapers, or most likely we would never live in and own a house with a fenced in yard.
Well, Grace has been out of diapers for about 12 years, and we've had a fenced in yard for 8. This isn't the part that bothers me. It's the fact that my brother got a puppy this past weekend and my mom was hogging the dog. I reminded her that she was allergic to dogs (she always forgets that she is allergic to apples and wonders why her throat itches after she eats one), because she was hogging the dog and wouldn't let anyone else play with it. She then stated, "No, I'm only allergic to cats."
My whole childhood was a lie. I mean the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and now this?!
I know, my parents are horrible people. And, because of their poor parenting and laziness I am not an Olympic athlete. Had they just pushed me, I could have been Dominique Dawes or Dominique Moceanu (I lived in Romania, I probably could have tumbled like a Romanian). I remind my mom of this every time the Olympics are on.
Here are pictures of the what started it all:
The dog's name is Harry.
